Cirque Du Freak
by Who am I. I am loved
Summary: Darrie has been an outcast in her family since day one, she's always looked different, thought differently and stood out on the whole in her perfect family. Her blonde haired blue eyed family. "I hate my life, I hate that I'm not perfect." Darrie Shan
1. Introduction

Hi this is Who am I. I am loved and this is my first ever fan fiction! I'm so excited, yay. So the reason I've written/ am writing this fan fiction is because I can't bare to let go of this series of books. This is my way of keeping them alive. I know, sad isn't it!

Anyway, I do not own anything, nothing, Nada, zilch, nil! It all belongs to other people, Darren Shan is an example. No copyright infringement is intended, please don't hurt my fan fiction!

* * *

I've always been fascinated by spider. I used to collect them when I was younger. I'd spend hours rooting through the dusty old shed at the bottom of our garden, hunting the cobwebs for lurking eight-legged predators. When I found one, I'd bring it in and let it loose in my bedroom.

It used to drive mum mad!

Usually, the spider would slip away after no more than a day or two, never to be seen again, but sometimes they hung around for longer. I had one who made a cobweb above my bed and stood sentry for almost a month. Going to sleep, I used to imagine the spider creeping down, crawling into my mouth, sliding down my throat and laying a load off eggs in my belly. The baby spiders would hatch after a while and eat me alive, from the inside out.

I loved being scared when I was little.

When I was nine, my mum and dad gave me a small tarantula. It wasn't poisonous or very big, but it was the greatest gift I'd ever received. I played with it almost every waking hour of the day. Gave it all sorts of treats: flies, cockroaches and tiny worms. Spoilt it rotten.

Then, one day, I did something stupid. I'd been watching a cartoon in which one of the characters was sucked up into a vacuum cleaner. No harm came to him. He squeezed out of the bag, dusty dirty and mad as hell. It was very funny.

So funny, I tried it. With the tarantula.

Needless to say, things didn't happen quite like they did in the cartoon. The spider was ripped to pieces. I cried a lot, but it was too late for tears. My pet was dead, it was my fault, and there was nothing I could do about it.

My parents nearly hollered the roof down when they found out what I'd done - the tarantula had cost quite a bit of money. They said I was an irresponsible fool, and from that day on they never again let me have a pet, not even an ordinary garden spider.

* * *

I started with that tale from the past for two reasons. One will become obvious as the story unfolds. The other reason is:

_This is a true story._

I don't expect you to believe me - I wouldn't believe myself if I hadn't lived it - but it's true. Everything I describe in this book has happened, just as I tell it.

In real life, vacuums kill spider. If you cross a road without looking, you get whacked by a car. If you fall from a tree, you break some bones. Real life's nasty. It's cruel. It doesn't care about heroes and happy endings and the way things should be. In real life, bad things happen. People die. fights are lost. Evil often wins.

I just wanted to make that clear before I began.

* * *

One more thing: My name isn't really Darrie Shan. Everything's true in this book, _except_ for names. I've had to change them because... well, by the time you get to the end, you'll understand.

I haven't used any real names, not mine, my sister's, my friends or my teachers. Nobody's. I'm not even going to tell you the name of my town or country. I daren't.

Anyway, that's enough of an introduction. if you're ready, lets begin. If this was a made-up story, it would begin at night, with a storm blowing and owls hooting and rattling noises under the bed. But this is a real story, so I have to begin where it really started.

It started in a toilet.

* * *

Did you love it? Hate it? Not sure, review! It makes the world a better place!

Hugs and kisses

Who am I. I am loved


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Lets see how this goes!

I do not own anything, nothing, Nada, zilch, nil! It all belongs to other people, Darren Shan is an example. No copyright infringement is intended, please don't hurt my fan fiction!

* * *

I was in the toilet at school, sitting down, singing a cute little song and trying to ignore the pain, I mean I've had worse haven't I? I flattened out my skirt and brushed the dirt off my leggings. The school toilets are _always _dirty. I mean always. I'd come in near the end of English when the pain had got so bad I couldn't concentrate, that's pretty bad! When I had asked Mr Dalton if I could leave the classroom for a while he just nodded, I must of looked pretty bad because he normally asks people whats up with then. I'm glad he didn't that would of been way, way embarrassing. What would I say? Sir can I be excused I have majorly bad period pains? No, ugh I cringe at the thought.

I wish every teacher was as understanding as Mr Dalton.

In the end, I stayed in the toilet rest of English, I was still in pain. I heard the bell ring for the end of class and everybody came rushing out on their lunch break. I wanted to join them but knew Mr Dalton would give me if he saw me in the yard so soon. He doesn't get mad if you trick him but he goes quiet and won't speak to you for ages, and that's almost as bad as being shouted at.

So, there I was, humming, watching my watch, waiting. Then I heard someone calling my name.

"Darrie! Hey, Darrie! Have you fallen in or what?"

I grinned. It was Steve Leopard, my best friend. Steve's real surname was Leonard, but everyone called him Steve Leopard. And not just because the names sound alike. Steve used to be what my mum called "a wild child". He raised hell wherever he went, got into fights, stole in shops.

He was feared and despised everywhere he went. But not by me. I've been his best friend since Montessori, when we first met. My mum says I was drawn to his wildness, but I just thought he was a great guy to be with. He had a fierce temper, and threw scary tantrums when he lost it, but I simply ran away when that happened and came back when he'd calmed down.

Steve's reputation had softened over the years - his mum took him too see a lot of good counsellors who taught him how to control himself - but he was still a minor legend in the schoolyard and not someone you messed with, even if you were bigger and older than him.

"Hey, Steve," I called back. "are you in the girls loo's?"

"Course not," he said, but I saw his shoes under my toilet stall.

"Ewwwww your in the girl's loo's!" I shrieked

"Well how else was I meant to get to you? And anyway whats wrong with you?" He asked,

"Girl problems, you wouldn't understand!" I sighed.

"Eww, anyway, are you coming?" he asked.

"Nah, I thought I'd stay and admire the view," I said leaning back on the toilet seat.

"Quit messing," he said. "We were five-one down when I came in. We're probably six or seven down now. We need you."

He was talking about football. We play every lunchtime. My team normally wins but we'd lost a lot of our best player. Dave Morgan broke his leg. Sam White transferred to another school when his family moved. And Danny Curtain had stopped playing football in order to spend lunch hanging out with Shelia Leigh, the girl he fancies. clingy git!

I'm our best full forward and the only girl on our team. There are better defenders and midfielders, and Tommy Jones is the best goalkeeper in the whole school. But I'm the only one who can stand up front and score four or five times a day without fail.

"OK," I said, standing. "I'll save you. I've scored a hat trick every day this week. It would be a pity to stop now."

I hurried to my locker with Steve trailing behind. I quickly grabbed my trainers and pulled them on. When I got outside we were eight-three down. It wasn't areal pitch, just a long stretch of yard with painted goal posts at either end. Whoever painted was a right idiot. he put the crossbar too high at one end and to low on the other!

"Never fear Darrie is here!" I laughed as I ran onto the pitch. A lot of players laughed or groaned, but I could see my team mates picking up and our opponents growing worried.

I made a great start and scored two goals within a minute. It looked like we might come back to draw or win. But time ran out. If I'd arrived earlier we'd of been OK but the bell rang just as I was hitting my stride, so we lost nine-seven.

As we were leaving the pitch, Alan Morris ran into the yard, panting and red-faced. They're my three best friend, I know, weird I don't have any friends that are girls but who cares. Steve Leopard, Tommy Jones and Alan Morris.

"Look what I found!" Alan yelled, waving a soggy piece of paper around our noses.

"What is it?" Tommy asked, trying to grab it.

"It's-" Alan began, but stopped when Mr Dalton shouted at us.

"You four. Inside!" he roared.

"We're coming, Mr Dalton!" Steve roared back. Steve is Mr Dalton's favorite and gets away with stuff that the rest of us couldn't do. Like when he uses swear words sometimes in his stories. If I put in some of the words Steve has, I'd have been kicked out long ago.

But Mr Dalton has a soft spot for Steve, because he's special. Sometimes he's brilliant in class and gets everything right, while other times he can't even spell his own name. Mr Dalton says he's a _idiot savant_, which means he's a stupid genius!

Anyway, even though he's Mr Dalton's pet, not even Steve can get away with turning up late for class. So whatever Alan had, it would have to wait. We trudged back to class, the boys sweaty and tired, me rejuvenated, and began our next lesson.

Little did I know that Alan's mysterious piece of paper was to change my life forever. For the worst, and the better.

* * *

Did you love it? Hate it? Not sure, review! It makes the world a better place!

Hugs and kisses

Who am I. I am loved


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Whoop, no reviews yet but who gives a Barbie.

I do not own anything, nothing, Nada, zilch, nil! It all belongs to other people, Darren Shan is an example. No copyright infringement is intended; please don't hurt my fan fiction!

* * *

We had Mr Dalton again after lunch, for history. We were studying World War II. I wasn't too keen on it, but Steve thought it was great. He loved anything to do with war, I was a pacifist. He often said he wanted to be a mercenary soldier - one who fought for money - when he grew up - and he meant it!

We had maths after history, and - incredibly - Mr Dalton for a third time! Our usual maths teacher was off sick, so others had been filling in for him best they could all day.

Steve was in seventh heaven. His favourite teacher, three classes in a row! It was the first time we'd had Mr Dalton for maths, so Steve started showing off, telling him where we were in the book, explaining some of the trickier problems as though speaking to a child. Mr Dalton didn't mind. He was used to Steve and knew exactly how to handle him.

Normally Mr Dalton runs a tight ship - his classes are fun but we always come out of them having learned something - but he wasn't very good at maths. He tried but we could tell this was over his head, and while he was busy trying to come to grips with things - his head buried in the maths book, Steve by his side making "helpful" suggestions - the rest of us began to fidget and talk softly to each other and pass notes around.

I sent a note to Alan, asking to see the mysterious piece of paper he'd brought in. He refused at first to pass it around, but I kept sending notes and he finally gave in. Tommy sits just two seats over from him, so he got it first. He opened it up and began studying it. His face lit up and his jaw slowly dropped. When he passed it on to me - having read it three times - I soon saw why.

It was a flyer advertising pamphlet for some sort of travelling circus. There was a picture of a wolf's head at the top. The wolf had its mouth open and saliva was dripping from its teeth, gross. At the bottom were pictures of a spider and a snake, and they looked vicious too.

Just beneath the wolf, in big red capital letters, were the words:

**CIRQUE DU FREAK**

Underneath that, in smaller writing:

**For one week only - Cirque Du Freak!!**

**See**

**Sive and Seersa - The twisting twins!**

**The snake boy! The wolf man! Gertha Teeth!**

**Larten Crepsley and his performing spider - Madam Octa!**

**Alexander Ribs! The bearded** **lady! Hans Hands!**

**Rhamus Twobellies - Worlds fattest man!**

Beneath all that was an address where you could buy tickets and find out where the show was playing. And right at the bottom just above the pictures of the snake and spider:

NOT FOR THE FAINT-HEARTED!

CERTAIN RESERVATIONS APPLY!

"Cirque Du Freak?" I muttered softly to myself. Cirque was French for circus... Circus of Freaks! Was this a _freak show?! _It looked like it.

I began to read the flier again, immersed in the drawings and descriptions of the performers. In fact, I was so immersed, I forgot about Mr Dalton. I only remembered him when I realised the room was silent. I looked up, and saw Steve standing alone at the head of the class. He stuck out his tongue at me and grinned. Feeling the hairs on the back of my neck prickle, I stared over my shoulder and there was Mr Dalton, standing behind me, reading the flier, lips tight.

"What is this?" he snapped, snatching the paper out of my hands.

"Stupid arse," I murmured under my breath.

"What was that?" he asked

"It's an advert _sir_" I spat

"Where'd you get it?" he asked. He looked really angry. I'd never seen him this worked up. "Where'd you get it?" he asked again.

I licked my lips nervously. I didn't know how to answer. I wasn't going to drop Alan in the soup - and I knew he wasn't going to own up himself: even Alan's best friends know he's not the bravest in the world - but my brain was stuck in low gear and I couldn't think of a reasonable lie. Luckily, Steve stepped in.

"Sir, it's mine," he said.

"Yours?" Mr Dalton blinked slowly.

"I found it near the bus stop, sir," Steve said. "Some old guy threw it away. I thought it looked interesting, so I picked it up. I was going to show it to you later, at the end of class."

"Oh." Mr Dalton tried not to look flattered but I could tell he was. "That's different. Nothing wrong with an inquisitive mind. Sit down, Steve." Steve sat. Mr Dalton stuck a bit of blu-Tack on the flier and pinned it to the blackboard.

"Long ago," he said, tapping the flier, "there used to be real freak shows. Greedy con men crammed malformed people in cages and-"

"Sir, what's _malformed_ mean?" somebody asked.

"Someone who doesn't look ordinary," Mr Dalton said. "A person with three arms or two noses; somebody with no legs; somebody very short or tall. The con men put these poor people - who were no different to you and me, except in looks - on display and called them freaks. They charged the public to stare at them, and invited them to laugh and tease. They treated the so-called "freaks" like animals. Paid them little, beat them, dressed them in rags, and never allowed them to wash."

"That's cruel, sir," Delania Price - a girl near the front - said.

"Yes," he agreed. "Freak shows were cruel, monstrous creations. That's why I got angry when I saw this." He tore down the flier. "They were banned long ago, but every so often you'll hear they're still going strong."

"Do you think Cirque Du Freak is a real freak show?" I asked.

Mr Dalton studied the flier again, then shook his head. "I doubt it," he said. "Probably just a cruel hoax. Still," he added, "if it was real, I hope nobody here would dream of going."

"Oh, no, sir," we all said quickly.

"Because freak shows were terrible," he said. "They pretended to be like proper circuses but they were cesspits of evil. Anybody who went to one would be just as bad as the people running it."

"You'd have to be really twisted to want to go to one of those, sir." Steve agreed. And then looked at me, winked, and mouthed the words: "We're going!"

* * *

Did you love it? Hate it? Not sure, review! It makes the world a better place!

Hugs and kisses

Who am I. I am loved


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